Idiots In The Attic
by Red Witch
Summary: The gang looks for buried treasure in Cheryl's attic.


** The disclaimer telling all of you that I don't own any Archer characters is in the attic somewhere. Just tiny madness from my tiny little mind. **

**Idiots In The Attic **

"What are we doing in the attic?" Ron asked as he followed the gang up into the mansion's attic.

"We're going to look through all my dead aunt's crap and sell anything valuable," Cheryl explained. "Everything else we're going to burn."

"We get to keep the money," Ray explained. He was carrying an empty box. "Cheryl gets to set a fire."

"Win, win!" Cheryl grinned.

"I just hope there aren't any dead bodies up here too," Cyril groaned. He was also carrying an empty box along with Krieger.

_"Too?"_ Ron did a double take.

"Don't ask," Lana sighed.

"Cheryl's family tends to have homicidal tendencies," Krieger explained. "I'm not saying that's a drawback or anything…"

"The only reason I am doing this is because we are splitting the money," Lana sighed. "Which we desperately need."

"Who knows what's in Cheryl's aunt's attic?" Krieger said cheerfully. "We could find buried treasure!"

He turned on the light. There were piles of dusty clothes, trunks and all sorts of weird things everywhere in the large space. "Well you have the buried part right," Lana said.

"I haven't seen this much weird junk since I went to Ripley's Believe It Or Not museum in Atlantic City," Pam remarked.

"Where do we start?" Cyril groaned as he put his box down.

"Might as well start here and work our way back," Lana pointed. "Things we want to sell go in that box. Things we want to keep go in that box. And everything else…"

"Goes in a pile in the backyard," Cheryl added cheerfully. "Tonight, we bonfire!"

"Ugh," Lana groaned.

"Just be glad she agreed to set the fire in the backyard and not in the attic," Ray told her.

"Let's just get this over with," Lana pulled out something. "Here's a pretty dress. With some bloodstains on it."

"We could get them out," Pam suggested.

"With what?" Lana asked. "A priest and some holy water? Pass!" She threw it in the throw out box.

"Shredded cat toys in a plastic bag," Krieger picked something up. "Toss!"

"Indoor plastic birdbath," Ray picked up something. "Toss!"

"A wooden hubcap," Cyril blinked as he picked up something. "Toss."

"A box full of dishes," Pam opened a box. "Correction, a box full of **broken dishes**! Toss!"

"A plastic bag full of used toothbrushes," Ron winced. "Definitely toss!"

Cyril sighed. "Something tells me we're going to make a lot of trips to the burn pile."

"We can make Smores!" Cheryl grinned as she picked up a stuffed aardvark. "Anybody want an aardvark?"

"Pass," Krieger waved. "I've got like five of them in storage already!"

"We'll cremate it with the others," Lana groaned. "Here's a puzzle! With only five pieces…That's out!"

"I found some shrunken heads!" Cheryl picked three small shrunken heads up by their hair. "I recognize one of them! Uncle Albert? Toss! Never liked him!"

"This is going to be like the yard sale incident all over again isn't it?" Cyril moaned.

"Looks like it," Krieger picked up a broken radio. "Ooh! This has promise. No wait, all the wires are rusted. Pass! Although this knob has possibilities."

"You can have the knob," Cheryl said.

"Score!" Krieger took it and put it in his pocket. He put the rest of the radio into the throw out box.

"I found another dress," Pam said as she picked one out. "With more bloodstains. Damn it, Cheryl. Hasn't your family ever **heard** of Shout?"

"Judging by the shrunken heads," Ron remarked. "There's been a **lot **of shouting in this house. I found some books. Looks like diaries."

"Put it in the keep pile," Lana sighed.

"Just what we need," Cyril groaned. "Written evidence of past crimes committed."

"We can go through them later," Ray suggested as he threw away a stuffed cat. "Maybe there's a clue about some real treasure?"

"More likely a detailed confession about how Uncle Albert was murdered," Lana groaned.

Cheryl paused. "Yeah, my family does do that a lot."

Ron remarked. "Why do I have the feeling if there is any jewelry in here, it's probably cursed?"

"Cyril," Lana ordered. "Why don't you and Ray take down the box full of broken china and this pile out back into the fire pit? Get that started."

"You're not my supervisor," Ray grumbled.

"You're not mine either!" Cyril added.

"Just do it," Lana ordered.

"Fine," Ray sniffed. "But not because you ordered us too. I could use some fresh air. This place is dustier than a mummy's tomb."

"With all the shrunken heads, that's not an inaccurate statement," Pam said as she threw some more trash in the throw away box.

"Ray you take that box. I'll take the china," Cyril ordered.

"Why can't I take the china box?" Ray asked.

"Just do it," Cyril protested.

"You ain't ordering me around," Ray snapped. "Besides I'm stronger and the china box is heavier."

"Well I'm not taking that box!" Cyril protested.

"Why not?" Ray asked.

"Because I don't want to carry a box full of shrunken heads, that's why!" Cyril protested.

"Oh, for God's sake Cyril!" Pam groaned. "Is **that** why you're being a weenie?"

"Even more than usual?" Cheryl snickered.

"It's not being a weenie to not want to touch dead body parts!" Cyril protested.

Lana rolled her eyes. "Cyril you realize that you've touched and carried **actual **dead bodies before, right?"

"As well as their parts?" Krieger asked.

Realization hit Cyril. "Oh God I have…"

"Yeah," Lana said. "So, saddle up Igor."

Cyril chose to respond by hunching over. "Yes master…" He drawled in character. "Shall I dig up some fresh brains while I'm out?"

"No need," Pam pulled out a jar with a mummified brain in it. "I found one."

"I call dibs!" Krieger said cheerfully.

"It's all yours," Pam winced as she handed it to him.

"Score!" Krieger grinned.

"Oh god," Ray realized. "We have Igor's job, don't we?"

"Only with slightly better benefits," Cyril admitted as he picked up the box. "Come on."

"Cyril…" Ray cautioned as Cyril started going downstairs.

"What?" Cyril snapped. "WHOOAAAH!"

CRASH! SMASH! CRASH! THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!

"Watch out for that third step," Ray called out. "It's a little slippery."

"Cyril!" Cheryl called out. "Are you dead?"

"No…" Cyril groaned.

"Aww," Cheryl pouted. "Maybe next time?"

"I so need to find new friends," Lana sighed.

"Me too," Ron admitted.

Ten minutes later Cyril and Ray came back. "Any luck?" Cyril asked. He looked a little bruised but otherwise fine. He was carrying the empty box.

"Yes," Lana sighed as she pointed to another pile of discarded things. "All bad. We couldn't sell this garbage to the Addams Family!"

"Boy there are a lot of dead stuffed animals in here," Krieger picked up one. "This is a dodo! An actual stuffed dodo! Dibs!"

"Yours," Cheryl rolled her eyes as Krieger put the dodo in the keep box. Which by now was full of things Krieger wanted.

"Five boxes of china and **every single dish** is cracked!" Pam groaned as she put down another box on the side of the pile. There were four more boxes just like it.

Ray quipped. "Just like their owners."

"Cheryl, I think your aunt had a hoarding problem," Krieger remarked as he looked through another pile.

"She was a Tunt," Lana put some more broken items in the pile. "Odds are she had a **lot **of problems."

"Here's a jewelry box," Cheryl picked it up and opened it. "With a severed hand inside."

"Oh God…" Cyril groaned.

"I think it's Uncle Albert's," Cheryl realized. "I recognize the tattoo…"

"Lots and **lots** of problems," Lana groaned.

"Cheryl," Ray looked at her. "Your family could give VC Andrews lessons on disturbing behavior!"

"I found some good things," Krieger protested as he held some records. "Like these old record albums! These are making a comeback!"

"Let me see," Cyril looked at the albums and read the jackets. "Hot Time Hootchie Mama. Arson On The Wrong Side Of The Tracks. Old Time Summer Gazebo Bonfire. I'll Burn A Cross For You. Let's Give A Hotfoot To The Drunken Irishman. Will You Go With Me To The Book Burning?"

"I sense a theme," Ray said sarcastically.

"Hey intolerant racists like music too," Cheryl pointed out.

"Throw these out!" Cyril ordered. Krieger did so. "Is there **anything** here we can sell?"

"Here's a dress that's not bloodstained," Lana picked up a pretty blue dress. That instantly fell to pieces. "Never mind."

"My keep box is getting kind of full," Krieger picked it up. "I'm going to go put this in my room and get another box." He went downstairs.

"Good idea," Lana had put more things in the throw away box. "Cyril you put this pile in the fire pit so we can have some room."

"Why me?" Cyril whined.

"Fine! You can take a broken china box," Lana groaned. "Ron, you can take this box."

"Great thing about getting older," Ron quipped. "Even though your body parts are falling to pieces faster than a jigsaw puzzle in a blender…People still ask you to move stuff."

"I'll take another china box," Ray offered. "So that Ron doesn't have to do all the work while Cyril has another hissy fit."

"I am not!" Cyril whined as he took a box. He started to go down the stairs.

"Cyril remember the slippery stair," Lana called out.

"I know Lana!" Cyril huffed. "I know about the…AAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

CLANG! CLUNK! SMASH! CRASH! CRASH!

"I'm okay…" Cyril said weakly from down the stairs.

"Well at least he didn't break anything," Pam remarked. "Mostly because it was already broken. And I'm including Cyril's self-respect."

Ray looked at Lana. "Maybe we shouldn't ask him to carry things?"

"You have no problem making **me** carry things," Ron grumbled as he went downstairs.

"You have mostly clothes," Ray said as he followed him. "Correction, mostly rags!"

"I don't know Lana," Pam opened another box. "I think this plan to find stuff to sell here is a dead end. Like this. A whole box full of rubber cement bottles."

"MINE!" Cheryl shoved Pam aside and rooted in them. "What the…?"

"Empty rubber cement bottles," Pam looked at her.

"TEASE!" Cheryl screamed as she grabbed a bottle and threw it at the wall. It smashed on contact.

"Well at least we're doing something productive," Lana sighed as she went through some old clothes.

"The only thing we're doing from what I'm seeing is giving Krieger some new disturbing toys to play with," Pam told her. "And Cheryl more stuff to burn!"

"Oh," Cheryl perked up. "Lana's right. That is productive!" She then proceeded to throw the bottles against the wall.

"Cheryl!" Lana protested.

"What?" Cheryl snapped. "I'm making another box to put throwaway stuff in!" She threw another bottle against the wall.

"It is one less thing to carry," Pam admitted.

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

"Oh, what the hell?" Lana shrugged. "It's not my house. I'm not cleaning that up."

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

"Neither am I," Pam remarked. "We'll get Cyril to do it."

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

"Agreed," Lana nodded.

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

"All gone!" Cheryl showed Lana the box.

"Thank you, Cheryl," Lana sighed as she took it. Then put it down.

"Hey here's another jewelry box," Pam found one and opened it. "Hello!"

"What is…?" Lana looked over. "Is that what I think it is?"

"A mummified human dick?" Pam groaned. "Yes!"

"Well at least it's not Uncle Albert's," Cheryl shrugged.

"How would you…?" Lana did a double take. "Never mind!"

"Let's not tell the guys about this one," Pam closed the box and put it in the new throwaway box.

"Especially Cyril," Lana groaned. "Shame. It's really a nice jewelry box."

"Do you **want it?"** Pam asked.

"Not for all the dicks in Dicktown," Lana gave her a look.

"I have to admit," Cheryl remarked. "That was a little weird even by Tunt standards."

"Tunts have **standards**?" Pam quipped.

"How many dead stuffed cats does a person **need?**" Lana picked up another taxidermy animal. "Ugh…" She put it in the throwaway box.

"Here's some luggage! I wonder what's in here?" She opened up the luggage. "Aww…It's a mommy mouse and her babies! And her in laws. And their babies."

"Oh, dear God!" Lana groaned. "Close it up!"

"We'll give it to Krieger," Pam said as Cheryl did so. "Man, he's really cleaning up today."

"I'm back," Ray appeared.

"That was fast," Pam said.

"Robot legs, remember?" Ray told her. "Did you find anything?"

"Just junk, junk, and more junk," Pam said. "And oh yeah, **junk!"**

"What about that jewelry box?" Ray looked in the throwaway box. "It looks nice."

"Trust me, Ray," Lana groaned. "You **don't **want it!"

"He might," Cheryl said.

"No, he **doesn't!**" Lana snapped.

"Why?" Ray asked.

"Don't ask," Lana groaned. "Although you might want to ask Krieger if he wants some luggage full of live mice."

"Is that a euphemism or…?" Ray blinked.

"I **wish,**" Lana pointed to the luggage. "There are actual mice in that luggage."

"Sounds like the perfect birthday gift for him," Ray rolled his eyes.

"Ugh you can burn this thing too!" Cheryl took out a photo album. "All that's in here are stupid old pictures of my stupid family."

"Cheryl!" Ray gasped. "They're still your kin! Crazy as hell kin, but still kin!"

"They're second or third cousins once or twice removed," Cheryl said. "Most of these people aren't even directly descended from the true Tunt bloodline. They're only Tunt in name because they legally changed it!"

"They're still your relatives Cheryl," Lana said. "And one of them you did get this mansion from."

"Let's look at the pictures!" Pam said cheerfully. "I love looking through old family photos."

"Me too," Ray said.

"Why not?" Lana shrugged.

"Okay…" Cyril walked back up, panting a little. "Did you find anything?"

"No," Ray quickly grabbed another box of broken china. "Here. Put this on the fire."

He shoved it into Cyril's hands. "Whoaaaaaaaaaaa!" Cyril fell backwards.

SMASH! CRASH! SMASH!

"Huh, I'm okay," Cyril's voice was heard. "Thanks for breaking my fall Krieger!"

"No problem…" Krieger groaned.

The four of them gathered around the album for a better look. "Who's that?" Pam pointed. "And what are they doing?"

Cheryl sighed. "It's my great grand aunt Carolina Catarina Tunt's christening. There's her mother, my great-great grand aunt Mildred. My great-great grand uncle Terrapin Tunt. That's his older brother Terrance Tunt. And his younger brother Tobias Tunt. And a whole bunch of other dead relatives."

"Are they sacrificing a **goat?"** Lana did a double take.

"Yeah they were real religious nuts," Cheryl said. "They took a lot of things in the Bible literally. Both the regular one and the secret Tunt one. Which meant a lot of sacrifices to God. Or Satan. Or whatever."

"Your family practiced animal sacrifices?" Ray asked.

Cheryl paused. "Those too."

Pam turned the page. "What about this one? It looks like they're having a fun time. Everybody's laughing and drinking."

"That's my Uncle Terrapin's funeral," Cheryl said. "Nobody liked him."

"I guess that explains the weenie roast on the other page," Ray said. "Wait, is that a **funeral pyre** they're cooking the hot dogs on?"

"Yup," Cheryl nodded as she turned the page. "Oh, here's one of Aunt Carolina Tunt's pictures as a baby. Ugh. Even as a baby she was ugly."

"Are those fake teeth someone put in as a gag?" Lana blinked.

"Nope," Cheryl shook her head. "They're real."

_"Seriously?"_ Ray asked.

"Until she was sixteen, she looked like Bugs Bunny," Cheryl said. "Had an overbite like an alligator. Until her mother found a good dentist to replace those choppers with pure ivory."

"Wow…Talk about rich people's problems," Pam remarked as Cheryl turned the page. "Is that your aunt on a horse?"

"Yeah…" Cheryl sighed. "This is all stupid stuff. My aunt on a horse. My aunt and her family with another boring family portrait. My aunt at her coming out party. My aunt going to her first KKK rally…"

"WHAT?" Lana did a double take. She saw another picture. "Is that…?"

"A cross burning," Cheryl sighed. "Yes. What? You **knew** my family were racists! And a lot of them were part of the Klan!"

"Yeah but still…" Lana winced. "Wait a minute, where exactly are they burning that cross? It looks like…"

"A town hall," Cheryl nodded. "That's because it is. They burned a cross in front of the town hall of some Californian town because they heard the town had a black mayor. Turns out there was a miscommunication. See the **mayor's name** was Black, but he was white…"

"Is that the **town hall** burning?" Ray did a double take at another picture.

"That particular fire got a little out of hand," Cheryl sighed. "Basically, it ended up burning half the town."

"Oh, dear sweet Jesus," Ray groaned. "What are they doing in that picture?"

"My distant uncles are attempting a human sacrifice," Cheryl sighed.

"With a **nun?**" Lana gasped.

"Attempted!" Cheryl protested. "Didn't work. She broke free and whacked their asses with this huge ruler."

Lana saw another picture. "Are they setting a bank on **fire**? And **robbing it?"**

"That is a huge no-no among Tunts," Cheryl nodded. "You can burn down any building you want except for banks. Banks are sacred in my family."

"And they probably robbed them the smart way through embezzlement," Pam realized.

"Exactly. This is one of the reasons the main Tunt branch of the family didn't associate themselves with that part of the family much," Cheryl admitted. Then she turned the page. "And that too. Wow, that was a weird weekend in family history."

"Oh my God," Pam paled. "That picture is so horrible even I don't want to describe it! Or that one! Or that one! Or…"

"Okay we're **burning** this photo album," Lana grabbed it and threw it into the box.

"YAY! We're burning incriminating photos!" Cheryl cheered. "And erasing embarrassing family history!"

"Let's keep looking," Lana sighed as she went back to work.

"Hey guys," Krieger walked up. "Have any more Cyrils you want to throw at me?"

Lana pointed. "No, but we have a luggage full of mice we want you to get rid of."

"Seriously?" Krieger's eyes lit up. "Is it Christmas already?" He went to the luggage. "Hey, there's a hole in it."

"What?" Lana did a double take.

"Aww…" Krieger looked inside. "The mice are all gone. I mean they left their droppings but…"

"Just figured out why your aunt had all those cats," Ray said to Cheryl.

"Duh!" Cheryl sighed. "Oh my God. I'm doing that again."

"Wonderful," Lana groaned. "As if this place wasn't infested enough."

"What's not infested enough?" Ron asked as he walked in with Cyril.

"We have mice," Pam explained.

"Are you talking about that meerkat Cheryl had?" Cyril asked. "Because technically meerkats aren't rodents."

"No! Actual mice!" Lana snapped. _"Meerkat?" _

"Don't ask," Ron groaned. "So, we have mice too now in addition to the rest of Carol's menagerie?"

"Some of those animals are Krieger's," Cheryl pointed out.

"That reminds me," Ron remarked. "I haven't seen the zebra around."

"I'm sure it's around someplace," Cheryl waved.

Lana did a double take. "How do you lose a zebra?"

"Don't ask," Ron sighed. "Let's keep looking okay?"

"Fine by me," Ray sighed as they went back to work. "Ooh, here's a nice fur wrap."

"SQUEEEAAKK!" The wrap came to life and skittered away.

"AAHH!" Ray made a high-pitched squeal.

"What was **that?**" Cyril gasped. "A raccoon?"

"Too long and thin to be a raccoon," Krieger remarked. "Maybe it's a weasel?"

"Whatever it is," Ray pointed. "It went into that pile there. I ain't touching it!"

"I'll get my capture net!" Krieger said cheerfully as he left.

"Well this has been a fun day," Ron groaned. He then noticed something. "What about this jewelry box? Why are you throwing **this **out?"

"Don't ask," Pam and Lana said at the same time.

"Trust me, Ron," Pam sighed. "You don't want it!"

"What do you mean?" Ron picked it up. "It looks fine to…"

He then opened the box. "Jesus! That is the weirdest looking finger I have…OH MY GOD IT'S NOT A FINGER!" He dropped the jewelry box back in the box.

"Noooope," Lana sighed.

"What?" Ray looked. "Is that a…?"

"Yes!" Pam groaned. "You of **all people** should know!"

"What? It looks like a…" Cyril's eyes bugged. "OH MY GOD!"

"I'm **out**!" Ron shouted. "I'm getting **out** of here! I can put up with your crazy, wild animals and all sorts of weird trash! But **that** is where I draw the line!"

"You already saw a few severed body parts," Pam pointed out.

"That is one body part **too many**!" Ron shouted. "I'm out! I'm **out!**"

"Ron's right!" Cyril said. "I'm out too! I'm not cleaning up any more of this…"

"I mean I'm out of **this place**!" Ron shouted. "I'm getting out of this **insane asylum!"**

"Well let's not be too hasty," Cyril paused. "I mean it's not like any of us cut it…You didn't do this did you Cheryl?"

"Oh God no!" Cheryl waved. "This thing isn't mine. Or Uncle Albert's."

"So, what's the problem?" Cyril asked.

"As long as I don't have to touch it," Ray shuddered.

"Again, that's **him** saying it!" Pam pointed. "What? It was a softball right over home plate! Of course, I'm going to take a swing at it. Phrasing! I think…"

"I have been through **a lot** with you crazy people!" Ron protested. "A **lot!** What with the bomb threats and the assassinated ambassadors and the shootouts with the Yakuza and the drug cartels and the gay cyborgs and the mad scientists and the glue sniffing heiresses and the crazy schemes…"

"Ron…" Lana sighed.

"I'm not **finished!**" Ron shouted. "The animals! The fights! The crazy parties! The arson! The murders! The stolen cars! The stealing and the vandalism! The crazy arguments about vampires! The **other** crazy arguments about everything else! The poisonings! The creepy dolls! The whacked-out experiments and all that! But **this!** **This** is where I draw the line! Ron Cadillac has had **enough!** I am **out **of here!"

**"This** is the line for you?" Cheryl blinked. "Kind of arbitrary don't you think?"

"Ron your house isn't finished yet," Lana said. "Where are you going to go?"

"Don't care," Ron said. "I'll stay in a tent in the backyard if I have to! Who am I kidding? I'm Ron Freaking Cadillac! I own the most successful car dealership in the tri-state area! I can afford a damn hotel! It will be worth it to save my sanity! It's time to stop this crazy ride! I WANNA GET OFF!" He started to leave.

"Ron! Watch out…" Cyril called out.

"AAAHHHH!" Ron screamed.

"For that third step," Cyril winced.

"I'm okay," Ron groaned.

"I'm not…" Krieger moaned. "Oh, my back…"

Cheryl had a faraway look in her eyes. "Will Ron ever come back? Will Ron go back to Ms. Archer? Will Krieger catch the creature in the attic? Or better yet, a decent chiropractor? Whose penis is in the jewelry box? These questions and more might be answered on the next episode of Cheryl's Place!"

Ray looked at her. "You are several peanuts short of a Snickers bar!"

"Okay," Lana sighed. "Let's just…"

Something extremely furry with teeth shot out and grabbed the penis before diving back into the clutter. "What the hell was **that?**" Lana gasped.

"It looked like a Fizzgig," Pam gasped. "A really big Fizzgig!"

"New plan!" Lana said as she started to leave. "We get the hell out of here and nail the door shut!"

"Works for me!" Ray agreed as most of them left the attic. Except for Cheryl.

"AAAHHH!" Cyril shouted.

CLUNK! CLUNK! CLUNK! THUD! THUD!

"CYRIL!" Lana shouted.

"We so gotta get that stair fixed," Pam groaned.

"I don't know what their problem is," Cheryl shrugged.

Cheryl saw something. "Ewww! A spider!" She ran out of the attic.

Twenty minutes later the gang was outside, drinking various forms of alcohol and watching Cheryl happily dance around a huge bonfire.

"Burn! Burn! Burn! HA! HA! HA!" Cheryl laughed with glee.

"Well another typical day for us," Cyril groaned as he drank a beer. "All that work for nothing!"

"And something gets set on fire," Ray remarked as Cheryl happily danced around.

"By the way a squirrel ran off with Uncle Albert," Krieger remarked. "Well his head anyway."

"Ron just figuratively lost his head and ran off," Cyril sighed as he took another drink. "I wish I could go with him."

"Me too," Lana sighed.


End file.
